Rollercoaster
by Tibby Rose
Summary: HIATUS. 'You haven't spoken to her properly in years. It's a terrible idea but you need someone, anyone, to help you move on from him.' After her husband dies, Santana has a hard time moving on. But when Brittany comes back in to her life, it gets easier.
1. Prologue

She doesn't know what she's doing here.

She should be at home with him, having sex or fighting over stupid things, like why did he eat her pack of breadsticks and why does she keep insulting him. She should be at the cinema with him, watching some weird action flick with Tom Cruise or Angelina Jolie. She should be at Breadstix with him, sharing a plate of pizza and a bottle of beer. She should be at the station, reminding him over the phone it's his turn to attempt to cook, whilst waiting for a case.

She should be anywhere but here.

But she is here, and that's what sucks. She's standing here, in a black dress with a black coat and black fishnet tights, clutching a black umbrella. Of course it's fucking raining. The whole thing is just like a bad movie.

Except she's living it.

She can't hear anything that anybody's saying. She's can't even see anything except for the large coffin being lowered into the ground.

She's Santana Hudson and this is her husband's funeral.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks for the favourites/reviews/alerts. Not quite happy with this chapter, but enjoy.**

Santana rummaged through her bag, looking for her some flask of vodka she had bought especially for this occasion. Her fingers touched the familiar cold metal, and she pulled it out eagerly, only to be stopped a firm hand.

"Not now, S" Quinn told her, as Puck pulled the flask from her hand. Santana grimaced, and placed her hands on her hips.

"This is my husband's funeral. I'm allowed to get drunk" she informed them drily as she pulled the flask from Puck's grasp.

Quinn sighed, and she pulled Santana in to a hug. Santana stiffened, put she allowed Quinn to do so, and the blonde took this as a good sign.

"We'll go out tonight" Puck interjected, and Quinn nodded in agreement. Santana sighed, but nodded. She pulled away from Quinn, and shoved the flask into Puck's hands with a quick 'calm the fuck down, I'll be right back.'

Santana stepped outside and slumped against the wall as she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her bag. She hated smoking, but it kept her mind off Finn and that's all that mattered. She lit one, and put it inside her mouth, as she took a long drag.

"You shouldn't do that. It's bad for you."

Santana snapped her head up at the familiar voice, and narrowed her eyes. Santana remembered that Brittany was in fact invited because Finn still liked her.

"I don't care" Santana replied bitterly, and Brittany flinched. It had been years since the pair had called each other best friends. After Santana's confession and Brittany's rejection, Santana began to avoid Brittany and by Senior year, Santana was dating Finn, Brittany and Artie were still going strong and Brittany&Santana were no more. Santana married Finn, Brittany married Artie (only to later divorce him) and that was it.

Until now.

Brittany stepped forward, and grabbed the cigarette from Santana's hands. She opened her mouth to object, but Brittany cut across.

"Please S. Lord Tubbington was able to quit, so can you." Santana frowned, but she knew this wasn't a battle she could win. Even now, Brittany had a hold on her.

Brittany sat beside her, and Santana moved away slightly. A flash of hurt flashed across Brittany's face, but Santana ignored it.

"So, what happened between you and the cripple" Santana questioned, as she nodded towards Brittany's now bare finger.

"Isn't it obvious, Sanny? We broke up" Brittany replied as if nothing had changed between them, and Santana snapped.

Because things had changed between them. Everything had changed between them. They weren't best friends anymore. They weren't even friends anymore. And they hadn't been in ages.

"Stop" Santana murmured, as she stood up. Brittany tilted her head to one side, looking extremely confused. "Stop" Santana repeated "Stop calling me S and Sanny. Stop sitting beside me and talking to about your dead cat. We're _not_ fucking best friends anymore. You left me for that freak! We aren't friends, Brittany, let alone best friends."

She clenched her fists by her side, though she regretted the words. They were true, yes, but Santana still hated to see Brittany upset.

The blonde nodded sadly, standing up "You're right. Charity III said I shouldn't try. But I miss you S-Santana. And I want to be your best friend again."

She turned and walked away, and Santana stood there as she glared at the blonde. Her life was already a fucking mess; she didn't need Brittany in the equation too.

"San" Quinn called, and Santana turned to face her "Do you want go? Puck's reached breaking point and I know you want to go and get drunk."

Santana nodded stiffly as she snatched up her bag "Yeah. I can't take much more of this."

...

Santana slammed her glass down on the bar as she yelled at the barkeeper for more. She hadn't been out drinking like this since before Finn died and she missed it. She'd be drunk of course-drinking and crying was how she spent most of her time nowadays, but she hadn't been out since it happened.

"Santana" Rachel interjected, as she clutched her single wine cooler tightly "I highly suggest you slow down."

"Let her be, Rachel. The show can go on tomorrow" Jesse jumped in, and Santana turned away from the annoyingly sober couple.

"But she'll start crying soon, and even with my years of training in everything else, I don't know what to do when people cry. Maybe we should order some water" Rachel argued, and Santana's head snapped back around.

"Wh-what?" she demanded as she wiped at her eyes, and Rachel smiled sadly.

"I suggest we take them home" Kurt suggested "The others are drunk too, and it is not a pretty sight."

Santana sniffed as Jessed helped her up and started to lead her towards the doors. By the time they stepped on to the street, Santana was borderline hysterical.

"Maybe we should buy a car" Rachel mused as she flagged down a cab "Getting 8 drunk friends home will be difficult, and Kurt's car can only take four."

"A car with more than four seats looks hideous" Kurt replied "I'll take Sam, of course, and Mike and Tina. They won't be much difficulty."

As Jesse assisted him, Santana leaned against the Rachel as the pair watched a drunkenly angry Quinn yell at Puck, who trailed behind.

"Why do they g-get their happy ending" Santana wailed "And I'm stuck here with you on the n-night of Finn's funeral."

"Well" Rachel attempted to smile "You know what they say; every cloud has a silver lining."

Santana rolled her eyes and sniffed, and for the entire cab ride insulted Rachel every chance she got. The brunette was used to it, and only turned around to face Santana and her fellow drunks when she said something completely unrelated. She'd jumped back to insulting Rachel instantly, and was only ready to move on to an entirely different topic when they reached Santana's building.

"Are you sure we shouldn't of left her with Quinn and Puckerman?" Jesse questioned as helped Rachel get Santana out of the cab.

"I think Noah and Quinn need to get over their drunken state alone. And Santana won't get in to too much trouble, contrary to popular belief. We'll be back soon."

Santana rested her head against Rachel's shoulder once they were in to the elevator, and she stopped midway through her 'animal sweaters' tear-filled rant.

"And n-now Brittany's back" Santana choked back a sob "Why now. I love her and she's back! Why?"

Rachel turned to her "Brittany? As in, Brittany Pierce?"

The doors opened and Santana stumbled down the halls, her sobs echoing across the halls. Rachel chased after her, managing to reach her as the Latina clumsily shoved her key in to lock.

"It's like Brittany's lock from her locker. It never works! Why is she back, Berry? Why?"

The door opened and she pushed her way inside. Rachel chased after her, desperate to find out about Brittany because Santana didn't to deal with that right now, but she stopped when she found Santana passed out on the couch. She sighed, and left, intending to find out all she could tomorrow.

Santana herself barely noticed that this was her first, official night back home after his death.

Barely.


End file.
